Son of a Bass
by nlizzette7
Summary: A short series of snippets that follow Chuck Bass on the road to being the father that he never knew. Chuck and Henry. One-shot, written for Ali (aliMmiller).


**Author's Note: **This was written for the lovely Ali (aliMmiller), who was the first to request a story from me on Tumblr. If you want to do the same, follow the link on my author profile. Hit "request a story" if you have a Tumblr account. If not, leave an anonymous question. xoxo

* * *

Chuck loves his son. He does.

He remembers Blair's fingers clenching around his wrist in the delivery room, brow furrowed in an anger he'd only been at the brunt of during the lowest points of his life. Her cheeks were red with effort, his eyes darting wide open helplessly.

"This is _your _fault, Bass," Blair had screamed, nails digging into his skin. "Oh _God_, you just want to torture me."

It's hard to believe that the source of _eight hours _of torturous labor is the same dewy cheeked infant smiling gleefully in his sleep. Chuck stares down at the head of thin black hair, the baby swathed in silky blue blankets. He drags a shaky finger across his son's mushy forehead.

He's so fragile, so good. He can see the Blair in him – that cheeky smile, and a good heart. A really good heart.

Chuck is afraid to ruin it all. It had been hard enough to find a way to love Blair, to find a way to be with her. And now this baby is counting on Chuck, looking up at him with expectant eyes. The innocence claws at his heart, worries his mind.

"Chuck," Blair breathes, bursting into the nursery and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I have to go take care of this emergency shipment. Henry needs to be fed in an hour, okay? Dorota is coming to help me, so you have to stay with him."

Chuck reaches out to grab her waist, but she slips away. "But, I don't know how to – "

Blair shakes her head, waving him away. "You'll be fine, Bass. I love you."

And now he sits, hovering over the tiny crib, staring down at a spitting image of himself and Blair.

"Do you…want to go outside?" Chuck coughs.

Henry peers up at him curiously, hands clawing at the air. Chuck nods, glancing up at the ceiling.

"I don't…okay," Chuck murmurs. He takes Henry in his arms, gently cradling his head. "You look like you could use a drink."

Henry giggles, almost like he can understand his father. Chuck grins, clearly pleased with himself. He pours himself a light Scotch before placing the bottle of formula in Henry's little hands. Henry grasps it eagerly, eyes wide as he gulps it down. Much to Blair's dismay, the little Bass prefers to feed himself.

Chuck sets him down on a pile of pillows, careful to hold the base of the bottle as they drink together. He grabs the remote and groans when _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ pops up on the screen. Blair's been tampering with his DVR again.

"Not this," Chuck says to Henry, wiping his son's mouth off. "Your mother is going to torture you with this enough when you get older."

Henry smiles, kicking out his tiny slippered feet. Chuck hesitates before touching one of them, tickling his toes. "You're just like her, you know. I can see it."

Henry frowns, a bit of drool spilling from his mouth. "Mama," he says.

"Yes, Mama," Chuck repeats. "I love her. And I love you just the same."

:::

Three years later, Chuck gets a surprise visit at work. Blair walks into his office with a small smile on her face. He stands to greet her, hands sliding to her hips. She kisses him for a moment before pulling away.

"I brought you lunch. Your favorite," she says, handing him a white paper bag. "You can find a way to thank me later."

"Or I could do that now," Chuck murmurs, sliding his hand lower.

Blair pulls away, slapping at his hand. "_Chuck_, no."

He frowns, eyeing her carefully. "Why – "

The door behind them opens again, Henry Bass bursting through it with a toothy grin on his face. Chuck smiles as the four-year-old tugs at his pant leg.

"Another great surprise," Chuck huffs, lifting Henry up.

"Hi, Daddy," Henry says, throwing his arms around his father's neck.

"He was desperate to see you," Blair explains, patting down Henry's hair. "And so was your wife."

"I want to stay with Daddy," Henry states, clinging to his father when Blair tries to pull him away.

"No, Henry," Blair scolds. "Daddy has work to do. You're coming with me today, remember? We have to pick out some new clothes for school."

Henry pouts, tensing up. "_No_, I want Daddy."

Chuck pauses, a memory tugging at his mind. He's five-years-old again, smiling mischievously as he bursts into Bart's office at Bass Industries.

_"Daddy, look," Chuck had said, waving a sheet of paper in the air. "I can draw graphs, too."_

_Bart stood, his eyes blazing. He snatched the sheet from Chuck's tiny hands, squinting down at it. "Where the hell did you get this?"_

_Chuck bit down on his lip. "Your desk. I wanted to help you work."_

_Bart crumpled the paper up, threw it across the room. "God damn it, Chuck. This was a contract. Do you know how hard I worked to get that signed?"_

_Chuck stared down at the ground, clasping his hands behind his back. "I'm sorry, Dad."_

_Bart ignored him, picking up the phone to dial is secretary. "I need you to take Chuck home. Find someone, anyone, to watch him. Pay off a goddamn taxi driver for all I care. Get him out of here."_

_Chuck gasped, clutching at his father's arm. "No, I want to stay. Please, Daddy. I'll behave."_

_Bart pried his hand away, his eyes cold. "No. There's no place for you here."_

Chuck blinks, watching the tears pool in Henry's eyes. He clutches him tighter, carrying him over to his secretary's desk.

"Amy, reschedule my board meeting this afternoon."

"But, Mr. Bass, this is a huge deal."

Chuck frowns. "It can wait. I haven't given Henry a formal tour of my office yet."

Amy shoots him a small smile, already dialing his partner's number. "Of course, Mr. Bass."

Chuck nods, turning to his son. "Now Henry, how would you like to help Daddy?"

Henry's eyes widen in surprise. "Me? Really?"

Chuck nods, sitting him down in his own leather chair. Blair watches on, her lips curled into a wide smile. "Of course," Chuck says. "There's no other man for the job."

:::

"Chuck," Blair hisses. "Talk some sense into that son of yours. He won't come out of his room."

Chuck smirks, setting his newspaper down on the table. "What's wrong with him now?"

"He's infuriating," Blair sighs, throwing herself onto the chaise. "He reminds me a lot of _you. _Chuck Basstard, circa 2008."

Chuck kisses her cheek, running his fingers through her hair. "I happen to remember you falling in love with that boy."

Blair rolls her eyes. "_Deal _with this, Bass."

Chuck throws his hands up in surrender, making his way up to Henry's bedroom. Gone is the little boy who used to follow his father around, hanging on every word he said. He's sixteen now, a headstrong one. With an attitude that Chuck remembers well.

"Your mother says you have some sort of problem," Chuck drawls, leaning against the doorway. Henry frowns, staring up at his ceiling.

"Don't you knock?"

Chuck rolls his eyes, sits at the edge of his son's bed. "Your tie is on wrong," Chuck says, nodding at the messy knot at Henry's neck.

"Yeah, thanks," Henry says.

"You're upsetting your mother," Chuck continues. "Do you really want to deal with another one of her tirades? I can't suffer through one of her anger-induced burnt casseroles."

Henry cracks a smile before sobering again. "Fine. It's this girl," he groans.

Chuck raises an eyebrow. "You've come to the right place."

Henry rolls his eyes. "_You're _an expert on dating?"

Chuck laughs. "You don't even know the half of it, Henry. You know your mother and how difficult she is. And out of all the men in Manhattan, she ended up with me."

Henry considers this. "It's Caroline Trent. She's hot and just...really cool. But she wants all of this romance, flowers. I swear, she thinks this is some sort of fairytale," Henry huffs. "She wants me to be totally whipped."

Chuck smirks, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "And what did you tell her?"

"That I'm Henry _Bass_," his son huffs indignantly.

Chuck laughs, smoothing his jaw with his fingers. "Where'd you come up with that one?"

Henry glances over at him. "Where do you _think_, Dad?"

"Look, son," Chuck started. "Games are great. I don't blame you for enjoying the chase."

Henry sits up. "But?"

"But no matter how much a girl seems like she wants to play," Chuck starts, remembering Blair in her Constance uniform, seated on the hood of his limo. "She really just wants you to hold on to her."

"Dad, that's going to kill my reputation."

"Son, take my word on this one," Chuck says. "Being a Bass man has nothing to do with your reputation."

Henry nods. "So, what do I do? Like, how do I – " He lets out an exasperated breath. "Sweep her off her feet?"

Chuck smirks, slinging an arm over his son's shoulders. "Son, I think it's about time you started using my limo."


End file.
